


Desires on the skin

by FragileObject



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, Love, M/M, Promise, Ritual Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:53:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FragileObject/pseuds/FragileObject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack knows alien rituals to make sex with Ianto more exciting... and more moving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desires on the skin

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Deseos en la piel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/725054) by [FragileObject](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FragileObject/pseuds/FragileObject). 



> As usual, I sincerely apologize for my english. My welsh is inexistent. Blame the translator for it. Thanks.

The brush glided gently from the base of the hair in the neck of the young man to his right shoulder in a slow single stroke. The feeling that the fresh ink was dropping ever his skin was one of the sexiest things he had felt in his life. He could feel every pore of his body slowly bristling while the brush drew spirals on his back and he was so sensitive to touch that he also could feel the friction of the strands of the sheets under his naked body. Small waves of pleasure threatened him to lose control in a matter of minutes. He was lying face down on his bed, his arms half extended, relaxed, and legs slightly open: totally surrendered to the will of his lover. The next stroke went back from the tip of his shoulder, took a puff and curled in his shoulder blade.

A low growl of pure joy escaped his throat and put him out of his trance.

—Assure me again there isn’t indelible ink —Ianto said, raising his head slightly, projecting his voice for Jack, sitting in bed on his heels, at the other side of Ianto, could hear.

—There isn’t indelible ink... —Jack repeated for the umpteenth time with patience.

—And I can wash any stains that fall on the sheets.

—You can wash any stains that fall on the sheets… Will you please be quiet?

Ianto buried again his cheek in the cotton fabric, smiling. In fact, he cared a shit about the sheets, even if they were the best he had. The incredibly exciting feeling to notice the bare and hot thigh of Jack pressed against his own hip, also naked, while the sweet bristles of the brush slid over his back while distributing the fresh ink in intricate patterns as if he was a human canvas, was a of the most intimate things that he had practiced with his lover. And that was saying a lot, having in mind the experience and creativity of Jack on sexual games and Ianto’s audacity, who at no time wanted to stay behind. Even more, Jack, in addition to providing the decorated container with the special ink and the precious bone brush with natural bristles, had surrounded the bed of Ianto’s apartment, the regular host of their games, with candles of different colors and sizes. And although the night was still young, it promised to be long, so Ianto had prepared a small stock of drinks, fruits and chocolate on a coffee table. Both men worshiped playing and that experience would be, certainly, memorable.

The brush, masterfully handled by Jack, described intricate drawings on the shoulders and upper back of the young Welshman. While concentrating on his work, the Captain sang a romantic song under his breath. Ianto, with a smile on his lips, was in seventh heaven. When, after a few minutes, Jack slid the instrument down over the ribs of his lover, in a smooth, wide movement, Ianto felt the excitement grow so much that he had to find an escape for not completely losing control.

—What about side effects? I guess you have not used a substance secreted by a nasty alien that causes me a strange reaction when it’s absorbed by the skin...

—You got me —said Jack calmly—. Tomorrow you will grow a penis on your forehead.

—Jack...

—But don’t kid yourself, it won’t be functional.

—Jack! — the young man protested and raised his head.

—IANTO! Stop talking nonsense and relax for once! The Eltanin of Etalpha5 didn’t developed and perfected these sexy games for you to throw it all away thinking about your sheets and the ink composition. For your information, it’s not toxic, it is totally safe and it will go with soap.

—All right, sorry —Ianto said softly surrendering and purring to earn Jack’s forgiveness—. Explain to me what this is.

—Well —Jack said dipping the brush again and resuming his work on the beautiful canvas that was the perfect young body of Ianto—. The Eltanin have a highly structured society. It reminds me of some Eastern societies on Earth. They are great warriors and great inventors. Artists, too. They are also cruel and inflexible in the compliance of their laws. But in return, they have thoroughly studied eroticism and sexuality. They have developed a lot of techniques to improve... let’s say... the communion between two beings.

—Tantric sex?

—Yes and no. At least in this case. This is more like... a spell.

—A spell? Are you doing witchcraft with me?

—I’m going to do many things with you... Call it what you want: witchcraft, erotic play, magic ritual... The Eltanin call it something like “the skin of desires”. They create a drawing on the skin of the beloved expressing their feelings and desires for that person... Well, if you can call them people. The Eltanin have very long arms and legs and three fingers on the hands and feet.

—Mm... Great.

—Enough to use a brush. They also have very soft skin. And as I say, they are great artists. They create some wonderful designs on the bodies of their lovers.

An idea crossed the rather dull mind of Ianto.

—Have you ever...?

—No —said Jack promptly while drawing.

Ianto loved both the response and its speed. Since the night the couple launched into deep space a small capsule called ybaq-lyb with samples of their DNA as a demonstration of their mutual love, Jack had not stopped to share their knowledge, concerns and intimacies with his young assistant. Ianto was knowing Captain Harkness as no one had ever known. And that made him feel proud and incredibly satisfied. He purred again, without realizing. Jack resumed his explanation.

—The Eltanin mix drawings with written wishes on the skin of their lovers. They have an intricate calligraphy, very beautiful. They cover the shoulders and the sides with different patterns, there are no rules, and they reserve the center of the back to write what they want from their lovers. Then they make love to seal it.

—Seal it?

—As we write a New Year’s wish on a paper and then burn it to make it true.

—I see... —Ianto said, but he didn’t seem to be able to see much in that time. Jack chuckled and continued his work—. Have you written your wish?

—I’m almost done —Jack whispered.

The brush traveled by Ianto’s long back toward his kidneys. The young man tried to recognize the letters, but Jack was using another language, probably the Eltanin itself. Bright, intelligent, purist. And a perfect bastard. The Captain covered the hips and buttocks of Ianto with more and more intricate designs and Ianto felt he could not stand his excitement. When the brush described something like a circle on the coccyx of the young and, immediately afterwards, it descended down between his buttocks, Ianto had to cling tightly to the sheets.

—If you go down there I will endure no more —He warned smiling against the mattress.

—That’s the idea. In fact, I’m almost done —said Jack softly but cheerful.

The brush reached its final destination and let go a generous amount of ink there. Immediately, the brush was replaced by fingers that caressed, massaged and explored, ripping moans from Ianto’s throat. The boy spread his knees a little and Jack changed his position in bed with an almost feline movement to place himself right between the legs of his lover. The fingers were immediately replaced by something else, bigger and more sure of its target. Ianto’s hips went a bit up on the edge of climax, and Jack slid his hands under his body, stroking, squeezing, stimulating. The young Welshman moved to burrow himself into the hands of his lover and at the same time, to bury him inside his own body. Jack replied gently but with a prodigious strength, as usual. And, as he used to, Ianto sobbed with pure pleasure and disbelief, feeling something like that. Before his first time with Jack, he didn’t think it was possible to feel anything remotely similar. Jack embraced the beautiful and decorated Ianto’s body while moving non stop, leaning his face on the back of the boy. Ianto moved as much as he could, caught between the big and strong body of Jack and his own bed, and twisted his body to find Jack’s mouth with his own mouth. The candles still burned a little more before the two men reached the orgasm within seconds of each other, between gasps, moans and unintelligible phrases but easily understandable by both of them. Ianto loved Jack with all his soul. Jack loved Ianto because Jack always loved. And, although sometimes Ianto still questioned it, possibly Jack loved him more than he had loved any of his lovers.

Ianto sank exhausted into bed, and Jack fell first on the adorned back of his lover and then rolled to be face up on the bed next to him. Both were panting but smiling. Ianto half rose and crept a little to lie on Jack’s chest. He liked his touch, his smooth and flawless skin. In public, he flustered and even blushed every time Jack took his hand or hugged him. He was not yet accustomed to those so common and spontaneous gestures of his boss. But privately he craved his touch and was looking for it without ceasing. He stretched his head to kiss him on the lips.

—Tell me what you’ve written on my back.

Jack smiled.

—A desire.

—A desire for me? Is it going to become true?

Jack’s blue eyes sparkled in the light of the candles. They were as clear as the dawn sky and locked secrets Ianto knew they were out of reach.

—I hope so. I would love it.

Ianto’s eyes looked more like a stormy atmosphere.

—Are you going to tell me?

Jack bit his sexy lower lip with a bad boy air.

—I would rather be a secret.

—Hmm... Tell me you have not asked I grow some tentacles...

The two men laughed. Jack circled Ianto with his arms and hugged him to his breast for a few minutes, kissing his neck, his cheek and forehead. When the Captain loosened his embrace, Ianto stretched over him and took some strawberries dipped in chocolate mousse from the small table beside the bed and put them one by one in the mouth of Jack. They played around with the food. Ianto licked the chocolate that he deposited in the chest and the nipples of his lover while he laughed, happy. They touched, explored and sucked all over each other. Maybe Jack, containing the vortex itself was aware of the time of the night. Ianto had lost all track of time and he did not care. The young Welshman regretted not having prepared more chocolate mousse, but then he had another idea. Sitting astride on Jack’s belly, he leaned across the bed and took the ink container and the brush that Jack had left a good time ago.

—What are you doing, Ianto?

—There’s still ink —said the young man, sitting standing, holding the brush up, tacitly asking the consent of his boss.

Jack made as if turning over in bed but Ianto stopped him.

—I do not care you to read my desire.

The Captain smiled with the right corner of his lips, leaned back in bed and extended his arms. Ianto began to draw on Jack’s collarbone. The brush described arcs and angles, drew stars on the chest and wrapped the nipples in small spirals, which made Jack smile broadly and even giggle with pure tickles. Ianto also proved to be a good artist. He concentrated on his work. He didn’t miss the ribs, and covered them with more lines dotted with stars. The ink dried by being absorbed by the skin, so Ianto imagined that his drawing was still intact on his back. And he did not care how much he had to scrub with soap to remove it. Jack looked at him with that mixture of pride and appreciation that used to make Ianto blush in public but become excited in private. Jack’s excitement was also increasing and it showed up rubbing his hips against Ianto’s body.

—Do not be impatient, cariad. I’m almost finishing.

So Ianto wrote his will on Jack’s flat stomach. He wrote five lines, five words, the longest of them just below the navel. The latest one, dangerously low. Jack lifted his head slightly to look at the words written upside down on his body. Ianto pulled out a bit, kneeling between Jack’s legs, so that he could read the last word.

NID  
WYF  
YN  
ANGHOFIO  
BYTH

 

—Have you written it... in Welsh? I have my belly written... in Welsh?

—We live in Wales and I am Welsh. What did you expect? —Ianto said pretending to be offended—. You’ve been living here for more than a century, you still have not learned the language?

—I fully understand Welsh. I don’t speak it because I don’t want.

—Oh, I see.

And... I will not. I will never forget you —he added softening and deepening his voice. Ianto looked into his eyes, blue on blue, suddenly excited. Jack half rose on his elbows and reforced his words with emphatic nods—. Never, Ianto Jones. Never in a million years. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t want to.

Ianto fought the tears that welled in his eyes as he picked up the last drops of ink in the container. It was true, Ianto knew Jack understood the Welsh and had translated its message. “Never forget me”. He nodded, with a lump in the throat, and resumed his work in silence.

Jack fell back on the bed while Ianto drew his last lines on the Captain’s groin, more and more down. Jack shook with pure desire.

—Finished —Ianto said.

—What do you mean “finished”? —Jack asked with a gasp.

—The message is written and the drawing is finished.

Jack looked at his lover.

—It’s not a drawing nor a message, Ianto. A spell, a ritual, remember? And you have to seal it —he said with his best tone to give orders. Ianto smiled, completely forgetting his former moment of emotion. Jack in “obey me when I ask you to” mode put him simply horny—. So use the ink you have left and do it now.

And that was what the young Welshman made. He lifted Jack’s legs over his shoulders, used the small remaining liquid as a lubricant and pulled Jack’s hips dragging his body across the bed to reach the perfect distance and angle. The entrance was so sudden that Jack arched his back, grabbed the sheets and moaned in pain. But Ianto had the best teacher of the galaxy and knew how to transform pain into a so exquisite pleasure that confused the senses. With his hands, he ripped a brutal orgasm out Jack’s body just before he let go himself fully into the Captain, with his back thrown back and his mouth open in a silent scream. With his last strength, he returned exhausted Jack’s legs to a horizontal position and dropped down beside him, hugging him and giving him little kisses on the forehead and eyelids.

—Is it sealed, Jack? Do you think my wish will come true? —he asked between gasps.

—I swear it will —Jack said with a small voice, hugging Ianto’s body with the little strength he had left, before falling asleep.  
Ianto followed him within seconds.

 

At some point during the night, Ianto opened his eyes in the dark. How long had he slept? An hour? Four? He realized that only two or three candles were lit, but dying. The light from the window was the one that preceded the dawn, so maybe he had slept a couple of hours. He looked at Jack, sleeping like a child against his chest. Ianto stroked his spiky hair, invaded by a feeling of overwhelming love. Jack was an immortal, a former time agent, a galactic warrior practically invincible. How could he be at the same time the sweet and innocent creature who was sleeping with him? Ianto smiled. Jack must be really tired after his long, double session of sex, because Jack usually did not need sleep. He could do it if he wanted, relaxing to the point of entering a meditative state so like the dream that sometimes he even had nightmares, but now he was really asleep, exhausted. Still smiling, Ianto carefully deinterlaced his arms and legs from Jack’s. He had to go to the toilet. They had played with chocolate and pieces of fruit, and fruits, especially pineapple, had a magical diuretic effect in him. He had to pee, now.

He looked the perfect and spectacularly beautiful Jack’s body a moment before entering the bathroom. The drawings that covered his front, from the collarbone to the genitals, were the most erotic thing he had ever seen. And he had drawn them. Proud of his work, Ianto had an idea. Suppressing the urge to urinate a little more, biting his lip, he looked for his ipad in a dresser drawer, among neatly folded clothes. Within a few seconds, Ianto had photographed his work in complete silence. He smiled and hurried to the bathroom attached.

As he washed his hands after emptying his bladder he looked at himself in the mirror. His short hair was disheveled and his cheeks flushed. That was the effect Jack produced in him. He smiled again, he was, of all creatures in the universe, the one that Jack wanted. Or so the Captain said. In fact, Ianto thought it could not be true, despite the declarations of love, sex games and space capsules. Ianto was what Jack wanted at that time. Beyond that, who could say anything? One day, when Ianto was old, Jack was going to pursue other adventures and other partners. And if he didn’t, Ianto himself would move away from him to avoid Jack the suffering for his old lover. He was convinced. The thought troubled him and he felt angry with himself. Why was he spoiling the best moments thinking about the future, death and immortality? There were still a few hours of darkness to snuggle next to the man he loved and that was enough for him that night.

He washed his face with a little water and then noticed the dark drawing looming on one side of his neck. He had forgotten the design covering his back. He turned and looked in the mirror. He gasped. What Jack had painted on his skin was a work of art. Ianto had decorated Jack’s flawless chest with spirals, stars and tribal designs and the result was magnificent, as if Jack was a Celtic warrior prepared for battle. But this... this was pure art. The lines stretched and twisted as if in motion. From his broad shoulders lines fell and coiled and tied up and flowers opened over the ribs of the young man and sinuous tendrils descended from there to become leaves, smaller flowers and all kinds of beautiful designs on his buttocks. Ianto’s back was like a tapestry about to come alive, a garden, the mantle of a forest in bloom. And in the center, over his spine, slightly breaking the symmetry of all that beauty, there were some strange characters that Ianto had never seen but looked like lace for him, and they locked the wish that Jack had written on his skin a few hours before. Ianto almost didn’t think, he only knew that it could not be lost forever in the shower the next morning. He took his ipad and gave thanks for having a large mirror in his bathroom. He took a couple of pictures and put the device aside. He was upset, suddenly nervous. Jack was careful and perfectionist with his roguery but, somehow, the delicacy of this game had surpassed Ianto. While hanging the towel, his nervousness made him throw the ipad to the ground. When he picked it up, with an awkward hand, the last application that had used at work accidentally opened. Before he could turn it off, the application took the picture as an input and returned an output.

Ianto stood in the middle of the bathroom, breathing hard. Tears began to flow from his eyes wide open, unstoppable and burning. As he read over and over again the phrase written on the screen of his ipad with goose bumps, part of his mind realized what had happened. The latest version of the program that Tosh had developed and debugged non stop to interpret alien scripture had translated the desire written in the language of the Eltanin that Jack had painted on his column and then had “sealed” making love to Ianto, praying to the universe for it to come true. When the tears would not let him see the screen, Ianto stretched the device to his chest and cried silently. The words still gleamed in their retinas. And they would gleamed in his soul forever.

“Never leave me.”

Ianto opened his eyes, turned off the ipad and wiped his eyes.

“Never leave me.”

He put the towels in order, put out the light and entered the room. Jack was still asleep, had not even moved. The young man circled the bed, turned off the remains of the candles that were still burning and put the ipad in a dresser.

“Never leave me.”

The light from the window was enough to illuminate the room dimly. He slipped back into bed next to Jack, stroked his beautiful lips with a finger and then kissed him gently. Jack stirred and sighed while Ianto hugged him. The Captain opened his eyes, sleepy, and cocked his head to look at his love. He smiled without waking at all. Ianto smiled.

—What are you doing? — Jack said.

—I had to pee —Ianto said quietly.

Jack chuckled and settled against Ianto’s chest, cuddly, hugging him.

—That’s fine... But don’t go... —he whispered just before falling asleep again.

Ianto kissed the top of the head of his Captain and embraced him, safe and protective. More tears welled in his eyes but Ianto ignored them. Not needed.

—I’m not going. I will never leave you.

The young man had no idea how to keep his promise. But there, lying in bed, naked in the dark and strongly embraced to the also naked body of the only person he loved, he was sure that in one way or another, his will would be fulfilled. No matter how, Ianto wouldn’t leave Jack for all eternity.


End file.
